


Jericho

by FuckingHateCheese



Series: Who's Programming Who? [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Boy Connor, F/M, He can't feel emotions!, He didn't say that!, He said something that stuck with you, He's not Deviant1, It was a little unnerving to say the least, Other, Stealing, The rumor is out: Does Connor is Emotions?, WHAT?!, Why would he say that?, You're incorrigible, but he loves you anyway, love?!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 07:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16091057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckingHateCheese/pseuds/FuckingHateCheese
Summary: Connor surprises you sometimes, he really does.





	Jericho

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back!! Did u miss me lol  
> I finally have some idea for how this series is gonna go, took me long enough!!  
> I do requests still, I will do them! Even some of the earlier ones, I haven't forgotten <3

"I'm not sure why you'd want me to do this, I don't have the same capacity for pleasure as you do."

"Just- just bear with me, okay? I think you'll enjoy it."

"Not to be disagreeable, but if I want to arrive somewhere, I could do so just as easily by walking, or even running."

"Can you run at 75 miles per hour?"

"...Well... with the proper enhancements...."

"Connor!"

He chuckles under his breath, before turning his head to face the front. "Alright, then."

 

A few months ago, you'd taken a look at a motorcycle dealership on the way home with Connor, and he'd been interested in one in particular. "It's a very nice shade of red," he'd remarked and reached out to touch it, but the owner shooed him away, saying that he would "mess up the resale value,". You'd given him the finger, but pulled Connor away as he stared longingly after the bikes. "Don't worry," you'd seethed all the way, "you're gonna get that bike." He'd insisted that he didn't want you to do something zany- like curse out a group of protesters in the street, the way you'd done last time.

Tonight, though, was different. You were a new woman now- a classy woman, who'd waited until the owner wasn't here, so- lucky Connor- the both of you were going to have some fun. 

"You know, this is  _very_ illegal," Connor protested, even as he mounted the bike. "We could both be punished severely if caught. The owner has every right to have me destroyed."

You nudge him, before pressing your head into his back. "He won't! He can't even see us!"

Connor reaches back and rubs your leg. "Yes, but not because of any stealth on our part. We're here after hours," he says, and your heart flutters at the smirk in his voice.

"Whatever. Are you ready?" you ask him, excited. You wrap your arms tighter around his middle and squeeze, face pressed tight into the leather of his jacket. "Oh, I'm so ready," you murmur.

Taking a deep breath, Connor powers on the motorbike, revving up and adjusting his grip on the clutch. The motorcycle rumbles underneath the both of you like a living being, growing louder when it begins to move.

In seconds, Connor is riding the motorcycle down the road so fast that your hair is whipping wildly around you, strands of it hitting your face. The world becomes a blur with Connor at the steering wheel, his every shift making it move at breakneck speeds.

"You ever think about doing something like this before?!" you shout out at him while you're flying through the streets. 

"Stealing a vehicle, and riding off in the moonlight?!" Connor answers back. "No, I can't say I have!"

You cozy up to him, half out of fear because he's enjoying this alot- like you said he would- but he's starting to go really fast, but half out of joy that you're really doing this- really in this moment with him, riding a motorcycle like a couple of runaways, riding like the streets belong to you and Connor alone. 

"In the moonlight... you're such a romantic!" you tease him, and he laughs. 

 

Connor rides the motorcycle like it's his, like he's done it for years, the turns sharp and even. He's perfect- his every act almost too fluid, like choreography. You're busy admiring, when you feel the first droplets of rain on your head, quickly picking up speed until you feel it running down your head.

"It's raining," Connor says, "but I warned you in advance that there was a 65% chance of it happening. You really should have listened." 

"Nag, nag, nag!" you whine. "Don't worry, I know a place we can go!"

"Where to?" he asks, speeding up. The rain is starting to feel painful as it hits your face, hard and fast. 

You ponder for a moment- then the thought comes to you suddenly, and you yell out. "There's a lake nearby, that I like to go to sometimes! And it has a little gazebo, too!"

He processes for a moment, and you hope that he doesn't tell you that it'd be best if you went home, but then...

"I know where that is!" he tells you, and you close your eyes as Connor steers you away.

 

 

"We're here," Connor says, and you stretch and pull yourself off him, the rain making your clothes cling to your skin and your hair stick to your face. You squint up at Connor through the shower, and note that while the rain probably makes you look like a drowned rat, he looks like a model; his hair falls perfectly, your favorite little tendril plastered to his forehead endearing instead of funny-looking. The rain plastered his shirt to his body, too, but it looks good. He looks really good.

Connor dismounts the bike, and turns to face the lake. "I can see why you'd visit a place like this. Very scenic."

"Yeah, you say, taking a seat, then grimacing. "Ugh, I forgot- it's wet." Connor strolls up to you, and squats so he's at eye level with you.

"If you'd sat like this, you wouldn't have gotten-" and you push him, watching with glee as he falls solidly onto his ass.

"Rude," he chides, tapping your nose with his finger.

"You look like a biker with that jacket on," you say, grinning when he plays along and strikes a pose.

"Thank you. I happen to think that I look very... cool," he says, puffing his chest out.

Eventually, you get comfortable next to Connor, his body giving off heat and drying you off, his shoulder as good as your pillows at home.

You look up at the stars and moon for a while, the sound of crickets chirping distant in your ears. "This was a good idea, even though it's raining, I think," you tell Connor. "Yes," he says, and he reaches for your hand, "I think so, too."

 

You freeze. Did he...? You don't know what to think. Connor is a Sex Android, but... holding hands isn't inherently sexual.

 

This isn't a sex act, this isn't carnal, you think, the thoughts going off like bombs in your head. This is Connor, innocently seeking out your affection during a night under the stars. 

It's almost... human.

 

You don't say anything of it, though, instead opting to squeeze his hand and lay your head on his shoulder.

"The stars are especially bright tonight," he murmurs to you, his voice carrying you into a dreamlike state. "The moon is bright, as well. But we would never know what it looked like without the sun. Isn't that interesting?"

"Yeah," you say, "that's kinda cool. But the stars give off their own light. They don't need a sun."

"Stars will eventually die and burn out. But the moon will always remain. I find that... beautiful." 

You look at him, the light of the moon making him look as pale as a ghost, the sheen of his lips especially shiny. God, he's beautiful. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you bring yourself closer and closer, until your lips meet his, your hand carding through his hair.

 

He pulls you onto him, just like that first night, his back in the sand, and you waste no time in tasting his mouth, your hands roaming his body, pulling and sliding along his shirt.

Connor kisses you like it's all he's ever wanted to do in his life, and you think that it's because he was programmed to, but the way he held your hand...the things he says sometimes...

"Connor," you pant out, making an effort to look him in the eye. "Connor."

"Yes?" he says, cheeks flushed and eyes shiny, his hair sticking up in random places.

" _Yes?_ " he repeats, because you haven't said- you can't say- anything back, fear keeping your jaws wired shut. You take a breath.

"If you... felt things... things you shouldn't... would you tell me?"

That brings him up short. He sits up, you in his lap, and looks up. "Things... like what?"

 _Like a Deviant_ , your mind begs you to say. _Ask him if he feels like he's going crazy._

 _"_ If you feel- if you ever feel emotion-"

"I don't feel emotions," he cuts you off swiftly. "It may seem like my actions are motivated by genuine feelings or desire, but I am only doing with my programming allots me. I am not Deviant."

You press on, though his words feel like a barb through the fucking heart. "But- you held my hand..."

"Hand- holding is simply a gesture used to convey fondness. Even animal androids can express a semblance of amiability- but it doesn't mean it has some deep-seated love for you that it hides."

"You're not an animal, though," you say, voice dropping almost to a whisper.

"But I am an android. And I am not a defective one."

 

That does it; you feel the sting of tears coming on- you move to wipe them off before they can fall, watching Connor through the blur. 

It's the way he said it, too; so cold and with no inflection. So matter-of-fact, like it was second nature to him to say that he couldn't feel anything for you. You feel ugly, ashamed of yourself, and you move to get off his lap, but he holds you there.

"I apologize if I've upset you tonight. This outing should have been an enjoyable one."

You shake your head stupidly, hair flinging water all around. "No. It's fine if you can't ever love me, I'm fine with it."

Connor shifts so that he's looking at you. "You're lying," he says plainly, and then: 

"It's not as if I'm glad that I can't feel."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you wait on what he'll say next. But that seems to be it; the world goes silent as Connor looks at the moon, the trees, the light reflecting off the lake- anywhere but your face as the gears in his mind turn and wind, and endless progression of thoughts that he'll never let see the light of day.

 

"You don't... refer to me as 'It' ever," he says, his hand inches from yours. "Well... it's rude," you say, and your shrug. 

"You treat me like I'm a human...ask me what I think and feel... but I'm not a human." he murmurs.

"When you talk to me and hold me close to you, and when you take me out with you... you make me wish I was," he whispers, his words ghosting towards you and sending the hairs on your neck standing.

He's facing you, moving close to you so you can receive what he's saying while nothing else here can, sharing it with you like a secret.

"You make me feel... real."

 

It's too much now; you stare at him, mouth agape, as he continues. "I feel like I could be just like you... feel what you feel. It-" and he stops himself to look at you like he's seen a ghost; he looks haunted, almost terrified of his own words.

"You make me feel like a Deviant."

His confession knocks the wind out of you; you feel breathless, stuck in time, shell-shocked. 

"But you were programmed to act like this, Connor! You don't feel things- you just said so!" you say to him, heart hammering. You can't get your hopes up, can't let that seed grow. It's going to crush you if this has all been an act, and that he really is just behaving like an Android would.

"What would you do, if your Android suddenly became 'real'?! What would you be obligated by law to do?!" he snaps. "It's dangerous," he says, eyeing you carefully. 

"Then why did you say something now?" you whisper, eyes locked on his. He pauses.

"When I held your hand, and then i said... you looked so hurt. It... hurt  _me_." 

Connor leans into you, hands finding yours again. "I don't want to hurt you," he says, catching your mouth with his, moving you with a rhythm that has your heart seizing and jumping.

 

He's everywhere- in your hair, on your lips, at your waist, tugging at the buttons of your pants and pulling until you're bare in his lap. You grind into him, pulling him deeper into the kiss when he breaks it off to stare at you, his eyes bright and intense.

"I want you," he says, " _I_ do. This isn't a program running me. I govern myself, I decide what I want- what I need."

The way he's talking has you curling your toes and pressing into him tighter, lips at his neck. "What d'you need, baby? Tell me."

Connor lifts you slightly, takes himself out of his pants. He keeps you suspended slightly above him, then finally lowers you down, parting you like a knife until you're seated fully onto him.

"Ah! This is what I want. I want you- I want to be inside of you. I want this-" and he gives your ass a smack, then another, heartier, one, "and I want to move you on my cock," he borderline growls.

Connor's hands find their way to your hips, steering your body to his liking, his eyes on yours until you throw your head back and moan, the empty sky the only witness to what he's taking for himself, to what you're dying to give him. You hold on tight to his jacket, before pulling it off- his shirt with it- so you can feel his skin on yours as you ride him.

"This," he pants out, "is what  _I_ like. Oh! You- mm!- you're my favorite sensation. I like the way your hair feels, the way your skin feels, I love the way your wetness feels on my cock," and he pulls you close for his newest admission, a hand at the small of your back as he slams into you from above, "And I love the sounds you make when I fuck you right...  _here_." 

He's doing it, he's pounding at that bundle of stars at your core, holding you against him, spelling the end for you with every thrust. He gives you a centimeter or two of freedom, then pulls you back down, each drag of his cock sending you shuddering and crying out.

"I'm taking you like this because all I've wanted- oh! Yes!- since the day started was to feel you writhe for me, the way you're doing now. I- mmf, fuck!" He's lost all words, instead groaning into your skin and pushing himself further and further over the edge. Your moans intertwine with his until you sound like an entirely new being made by this animal lust that has you slamming back down onto him each time he lets you up.

"Are you going to come for me?" he asks you. "I know you are- I know the faces you make when you're this close, oh! When you're this tight around my cock," and he continues on with his barrage of filthy murmurs and encouragements until you're spasming wildly, nails digging into his skin, cursing like a sailor the entire way. 

 

Connor holds you so you can hear every word he's saying, every bit of praise he has to offer you, your body, your ass, the way you're trying to milk him for everything he's got- and then he grabs tighter, grunting deliciously into your ear that he's coming, moving you fluidly against him. He lets out a choked gasp.

The both of you sit like this for a while, your arms wrapped loosely around him now. The crickets have stopped chirping mostly, and a cloud passes over the moon, bathing your forms in the darkness. 

"Looks like we rode off in the moonlight twice tonight, huh?" you joke. Connor snorts.

The moon breaks free of the clouds; it shines down on the two of you, and you can see the flush from earlier return on Connor's cheek, tinged blue.

"I love you, Connor," you say, your lips brushing his forehead.

"You're my Jericho," Connor says back.

**Author's Note:**

> Omg, crazy huh


End file.
